


Better Natures: Grace

by the_afterlight



Series: Better Natures [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_j2_bigbang, Gen, gen-ish with a side of ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_afterlight/pseuds/the_afterlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hint leads Sam and Dean to Angel Falls, MT, but what they find there is most surprising: the disappearances aren't demonic in the least, but angelic. With the linchpin seal in danger of breaking, Sam and Dean have to deal with unlikely allies... and a strange transformation of Sam's that changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Long Way Down/All You Follow

**Author's Note:**

> **Additional Warnings:** Spoilers through 4x10; AU after that. Slight references to Sam/Ruby, and even slighter-if-you-squint to Dean/Castiel
> 
> First off, I want to thank azremodehar@lj for the awesome beta! Any remaining errors are mind and mine alone. (And I still suck at fight scenes.)
> 
> Unfortunately, the art done for this story didn't survive after the artist left fandom; I've been looking through my external drives to see if I saved it anywhere else, but at the moment it seems that it's gone forever (which is really sad, because it was _awesome_).
> 
> Written for the 2009 spn_j2_bigbang challenge at livejournal. One of two thematically connected, but otherwise unrelated, stories in the Better Natures series, with further Better Natures stories still potentially forthcoming.

The road was, as usual, long and lonely. Sam had long ago given up trying to think of it in anything other than cliches.

As the brothers Winchester sped down yet another highway between yet another pair of small towns, Sam took a moment to glance over at Dean. It had been only a few weeks since Anna had regained her grace, and while Dean hadn't exactly been forthcoming about all of the... events, certainly Sam knew -- and could figure out -- more than enough about what had gone on between them.

"So we're looking at disappearances, right?" he asked, shaking off his moment's distraction. He returned his eyes to the road, focusing on what lay ahead rather than behind: Angel Falls, Montana, and their newest case. Although the name of the town seemed to be chosen specifically to mock them.

"That's what Ellen said," Dean agreed. "Nothing else in the area that anyone can track, and no omens to indicate demons." They'd gotten the email, first, and then heard Ellen's voice after a week-long game of phone tag. It had been a while since they'd heard from her, before that, but it had been good to hear her voice. The fact that she'd had a case for them had only made things all the sweeter. "As far as anyone seems to know, people are just disappearing into thin air."

Sam grunted noncommittally, tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel in time to the Led Zeppelin song playing on the tape deck. "Any odd lore in the area?" he asked. "I haven't heard of the place before, but that doesn't mean anything."

"Nothing in what Bobby could find, but who knows what we'll find when we get in town?" Dean asked.

"There's a small university not far out of town," Sam added. "We might check it out, see if there's any professors who are familiar with local legends."

Silence fell over the two brothers. "So do we have any contacts?" Dean asked. "You were looking into witnesses, weren't you?"

"No one got mentioned in the news reports, but there's nothing to say we won't find anything when we get to town," Sam said. "You know as well as I do that people don't always report the weird stuff. Rumours are better than anything else, half the time."

"Yeah. It's not like anyone's going to believe in things like vampires or demons." Dean leaned back against the car door, letting his head hang back against the window. "You ever just... get tired?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes, yeah," he replied, taking another moment to look at Dean. The older Winchester looked tired -- exhausted, even -- in a way that Sam couldn't remember seeing. "But we get through it, just like we always do." Dean didn't reply, and Sam let the silence carry for a moment before he spoke again. "Dean, are you all right?" he asked. "I mean, everything with Anna, you haven't exactly been... yourself, lately."

It was Dean's turn to grunt, and he turned away from Sam to stare out at the passing countryside. "Just haven't been sleeping well," he said. "Nothing to worry about. We'll crash in some skeezy motel and I'll be fine in the morning."

"If you're sure," Sam said, not sure if he wanted to push the issue or not. "I mean, if you're _not_ sure, that's fine, too. Not to go all chick flick on you, but if you want to talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about," Dean insisted.

"But if there were-"

"Sam?" Dean turned back to Sam for just a moment. "Drop it. I'm going to sleep; wake me when we get to town, all right?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Dean made a production of turning over and settling into sleep -- enough of a production that Sam knew it was false, but also enough that he knew trying to keep talking would be futile.

So he turned his full attention back to the road and drove.

The motel was much the same as any other; at least, it seemed so when Sam drove up to it. Dean began to shift as the car came to a stop, slowly coming out of the nap he'd fallen into ten minutes before. "What?" he asked. "We there?"

"Angel Falls, Montana," Sam replied, "population one-thousand-three. One of three towns in the area that are on the outskirts of the Putnam Woods." He slipped out of the car, grabbing his satchel from the back seat. "C'mon, let's check in. What've we got for cards?"

Dean grabbed the box of credit cards from the glove compartment. "Want to go for Iggy Steinbeck?" he asked. "We haven't used him in a while." Sam nodded, and he caught the card as Dean tossed it over the roof of the Impala. "Looks like it's not too bad a place," Dean continued. "We've definitely stayed worse places."

They walked into the office, a too-small room with a too-large computer on a too-small desk, and were greeted by a young, pimple-faced teenager, sweating profusely in unexpectedly stifling heat. "Welcome to the Falldown Motel," he greeted them, his voice cracking. "You folks looking for a room? Two?"

"One's fine," Sam said, with a smile. "Two queens?"

"You're in luck." The boy moved, and as he shifted his baggy shift moved enough to reveal the nametag that had been caught between two folds: Mitchell, it read. "You've just missed the tourist season, we're pretty much empty. What're you in town for? Or are you just passing through?"

"Something like that," Dean told him. "We're looking at universities. Road trip across the country." Sam gave him an odd look, but went with the story.

"Yeah, we're heard good things about the school outside of town, so we thought we'd stop in and take a look around." He passed over the credit card, and Mitchell barely even glanced at it before swiping it, not even taking in the name. "Is there anything else to see around town?"

Mitchell shrugged. "Not really. There's a cinema that shows old movies a couple of nights a week, but that's it. Anything fun, you really need to go over to Bellton, two towns over." Sam nodded and accepted the key as Mitchell held it out. "Room 13," Mitchell told them.

"Thanks," Sam replied. "C'mon, Dean."

They left the office and walked down towards the entrance to room thirteen; Sam opened the door and ushered Dean in. "You want to take a nap or something?" Sam asked Dean. "You were pretty-" He cut himself off as he saw someone stepping out of the shadows.

"Hello, Sam. Dean." Castiel smiled, just _ever_ so slightly, at the brothers. "It's good to see you. I trust you're well?"

Sam frowned, but Dean walked forward, shrugging. "You could say that," he answered. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to tell you to stay away from Angel Falls," Castiel said, his smile fading. "Don't ask me why, I don't know myself. All I can tell you is that there are orders from high up to keep you away from the town. I convinced my superiors that it was worth trying to talk to you, first."

"Why would they want to keep us out of here?" Sam asked. "Is it something to do with the disappearances?"

Castiel shrugged. "I can't say," he said, "although our orders are to keep you away from the town, not hunters in general. It might be that there's something else in town that could hurt you, or that you're not supposed to find out."

"That's bullshit," Dean muttered, flopping down onto one of the beds. "C'mon, Cas, you can't tell us anything?"

"I've said all I can," was the reply. "I really do suggest that you leave town. I'll be around to keep an eye on you, but there's not much help I can offer you." Castiel stepped back, and with one last little smile, turned -- and was gone.

Sam stared at where the angel had been just a moment before. "Damn," he said. "That... makes things interesting. What do you think? Want to stick around?"

"It could be that's what they want us to do," Dean said. "Tell us to leave so we'll look deeper. It's not like no one's ever tried that before."

Sam nodded. "So the question becomes," he replied, "whether or not we _want_ to keep looking deeper."

"What's the worst that could happen? We die? Yeah, because that seems to stick around us."

Something about that... Sam frowned at it. "Why don't you get some rest? You said you'd sleep better in a motel bed. I'm going to run out and get some food, okay?" Dean shrugged and settled back on the bed, toeing off his boots. "... Okay. I'll be back in a bit, I saw a diner down the road a bit."

Dean waved half-heartedly at Sam, who sighed and left.

As the door shut, there was a moment where Dean could swear he heard wingbeats, and then a few steps towards the bed that were muffled by the motel's shag carpet. Someone else sat down on the bed, causing it to sink towards one side. "I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel said. "I wish I could tell you both more."

Dean rolled over onto his back, opening his eyes. "Yeah, well, it's not like we're actually expecting any help." He pulled himself up a bit, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. "How are things up there? Last time you and I spoke, you said that they were getting kind of hectic."

"There's a spy in Heaven."

That caused Dean to stare, completely non-plussed. "... What?"

"A spy. We think an angel's been turned."

The way that Castiel said that -- completely unemotionally -- sent chills down Dean's spine. "Any idea who it is?" he asked. "Or if they might be listening in right now?"

Castiel shook his head. "If we knew," he said, "we'd be dealing with it on our own. I just thought you should know. I don't even know if it's information you can use."

Dean nodded, his frown deepening. "How's Anna doing?" he asked. "Is she involved at all?"

"She's..." Castiel hesitated. "She's being hunted," he said, finally. "She disobeyed. She needs to be..." But the words were hollow, Dean could tell. Castiel was just repeating what he'd been told. For once, he wasn't certain that he believed what was coming out of his mouth, what had been said about his fellow angel. "Heaven is very strict," he finished, finally. "If someone breaks the rules, there isn't much choice about how we deal with that."

"So free choice is all well and good for humans, but the minute one of the angels decides they might want to try it, they're evil and need to be stopped?"

"It's not so different from some of what you do," Castiel pointed out. "There are certain rules that humans agree to live by. When they break them -- demon summoning, working with ancient gods -- who stops them? Hunters. It's the same with us. We have our own hunters to deal with our own rule-breakers."

"I still say it sucks." Dean winced a bit as he slipped off his over-shirt, leaning forward just long enough to get it down off his shoulders.

Castiel noticed. "Are you in pain?" he asked. "I was watching, your last hunt. You took quite the blow to your back."

"It's nothing," Dean said, shaking his head. "Seriously. Just a pulled muscle."

"I can heal it for you, if you'd like," Castiel said, leaning forward. "It's simple enough to do."

Dean opened his mouth to reject the offer, but before he could Castiel had already reached one hand out to Dean's shoulder, brushed against it just lightly, so lightly that Dean barely felt the pressure through the cloth of his t-shirt. Instantly, the pain faded; when Dean rolled his shoulder to test it out, it felt better than it had in months. "Dude. That's amazing."

"Just part of being one of God's messengers," Castiel said, and if Dean didn't know better, he'd have thought that Castiel was making a joke. "You should get some sleep," he added. "I know you haven't been... You've been having dreams."

Perturbed, frustrated to be getting that from all corners, Dean spat out, "What, have you been watching those, too?"

Castiel just looked at Dean neutrally. "Yes." He reached out again, and, gently, brushed one hand down Dean's face. "Sleep," he said, and there was something in it that Dean couldn't deny. "And sleep well." Already, Dean felt himself slipping away.

"Screw you, Cas..." he murmured, as he felt the bed resettle itself after Castiel stood up.

There was a very low chuckle, almost impossible to make out, especially with Dean's fading consciousness. "You'd surprised how often I've heard that," Castiel said, and then, once again, he was gone.

Dean slept, and for the first time in recent memory, he'd remember no dreams when he awoke.

* * *

To Sam's surprise, there was a figure standing by the Impala when he got outside. "What are you doing here?" he asked, not angry, but certainly confused. "I thought you'd be-"

"Long gone?" Ruby finished. "There's something going on," she continued. "Something to do with Lilith's plans, but I haven't heard anything about a seal." She wrinkled her nose. "You stink of angel." Ruby narrowed her eyes at Sam. "Not that I'm surprised. This whole _town_ stinks of angels."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked. "There've been angels around recently?"

"Still are, as far as I can tell," Ruby replied, moving around to the passenger side and waving Sam into the car. "C'mon. We can talk while you drive." She leaned back and reached over to fiddle with the radio, not settling on any one station for more than a few seconds until Sam got in and reached over himself, stilling her hand. "But yeah. Angels around. You're not going to see me around here for long, but I wanted to come by and warn you that you probably want to get out of town, and the sooner the better."

"Funny," Sam told her. "That's exactly what Castiel said. What is it about this place?"

Ruby shivered a moment, giving Sam an appraising look. "You should be able to figure it out for yourself," she said. "You're strong enough for that now. Take a moment when you stop the car."

Something that had been nagging at the back of Sam's head since they drove into town was starting to make sense. "There aren't any demons around," he said, finally. "Except for you. None at all. Shouldn't there at least be one or two? Even just... floating around?"

"The entire town is interdicted," Ruby explained. "If anyone finds out I've come here... Well, they're not too happy about me working with you to begin with, if you get my meaning? And having come here -- talking to you or not -- is so much worse, you have no idea."

Sam didn't answer at first, instead navigating the Impala out onto the road and back the way he and Dean had come. "So why come?" he asked, not looking over at the body Ruby was occupying. The body that, she insisted -- that she'd proven, after a fashion -- was empty when she'd taken it. "It can't just have been to tell me about this."

"I have my reasons." It wasn't long, just a few moments, until Sam was pulling into the parking lot of the diner he'd seen before. "Just, trust me, Sam, okay? Don't stay in town any longer than you need to. Whatever hunt you're on, it can wait until someone else gets here."

"I can't promise anything." Sam shrugged, stopping the car but not getting out right away. "I can't guarantee how Dean will react to this, and there's something about this case. But as soon as we can leave, we will."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "You and your brother," she said. "How many times are you going to have to sacrifice yourselves before you get it into your heads that it's just not worth it?"

That brought a smile to Sam's face. "More times than you could possibly imagine," he said. "No matter what happens, we'll keep on going. If we don't, who will?"

Snorting, Ruby got out of the car. "Winchesters," she muttered, walking away, not bothering to close the door behind her. "I'll never understand Winchesters."

Sam sat a moment longer, watching after where Ruby had gone. "I think," he said aloud, long after Ruby was out of sight, "that I'll take that as a compliment."

* * *

"Dean?" Sam called softly into the darkness of the motel room, as he shut the door carefully behind him. He set the take-out bag down on the table before leaning down to untie his shoes. "You awake?"

Dean murmured, and shifted in his sleep, rolling over to curl a little more in upon himself. Sam smiled softly, not wanting to wake Dean up. Instead, he pulled his sandwich out of the bag and opened up his laptop, starting to research the town. There had to be something, after all, he thought, somewhere to start the investigation.

* * *

"Mitchell?" Sam asked, knocking on the open door to the office, a few hours later. "I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions about the town?"

Mitchell, startled, jumped, sending popcorn from the bag in his hand flying in a flurry around him. "Iggy, right?" he asked, trying to cover up his shock. "Uh, yeah, I guess. What did you want to know?"

"Do you know where the name came from?" Sam asked. "It's pretty unique."

Mitchell shook his head. "I'm the wrong guy to ask. I hate history, it never sticks in my head. But you might want to try Frieda Collins." He reached out and grabbed a notepad from the desk and a pen from the basket beside it. "Here, this is her number," he added. "My mother does some cleaning for her, and I do her lawn in the summer. She won't mind if I give this out. She's kind of Angel Fall's official unofficial historian, you know? She keeps track of a lot of the legends and stuff, too. I think she's even written a couple of books about it, but they haven't been published or anything. Just, like, y'know how you can put a book up online and people can buy it when they want to? Like that."

"Thanks, Mitchell, that's great." Sam took the paper, folding it carefully and tucking it into his shirt pocket. "Look, do you know anything about the disappearances around here? I have to admit, they've got my brother and I kinda worried. If people are disappearing..."

"I don't think it's anything," Mitchell replied. "But Andrew Banks saw something. Claims he did, anyway. He's the only one who's been around any time someone's gone missing. The paper wouldn't even print his story, he said that they said it was too crazy. God knows what he was raving about, he shut up about it after they refused to print."

"Andrew Banks. I don't suppose you've got his number, too?" Sam grinned, and pulled the paper back out, handing it over.

Mitchell stopped, hesitated a moment, then shrugged. "Can't hurt to give you that, too, I guess," he said. "It's not like he's not listed or anything. Anyway, you tell him I told you to call, you shouldn't have any problems talking to him."

"Thanks, Mitchell. You've been a big help."

"Any time, Sam."

It wasn't until he'd already left the office that Sam wondered how Mitchell had known his real name. He didn't remember mentioning it, and he _had_ called him Iggy at first. _Maybe Dean mentioned it when we checked in,_ he thought to himself, going back to the room to see if he could wake up Dean. If not, the leads would keep until the morning. And, realistically, he could use some sleep himself.

* * *

It was morning before Dean woke up, and late morning at that. Sam looked over when heard his brother stirring and laughed. "It's about time, Sleeping Beauty."

Any other day, especially lately, Sam would have been greeted with a flipped-up finger in return, but this morning Dean merely growled as he slipped out from under the covers. "That fucker!" he swore. Apparently, the growling wasn't even directed at Sam. "Castiel fucking put me to sleep."

"What?" Sam said. "He came back after I left?"

"I don't think he even actually left." A moment passed, as Dean rolled out his neck. "Huh. I think I actually feel better."

Sam thought that this was probably a good thing. Dean _had_ needed the rest. "Guess it was a good thing, then. Anyway, I've got some leads. And breakfast. I figure once you eat, we can head out?"

It was as easy as done. Dean grabbed a quick shower after he scarfed down the breakfast Sam had grabbed him at the diner down the road, and they headed out.

Frieda Collins was the first person they called, and she told them to come right over. Her house was fairly small, but well-kept, and she greeted them at the door with a wide smile. Ms. Collins was, to Sam's eyes and experienced opinion, a very typical little old lady, down to the silver tea service she brought out to serve them. She was spry, though, and her voice strong; her own eyes shone with intelligence.

"You're asking about the town's name, you say." Frieda sat down opposite the brothers, settling into an ancient, leather-upholstered armchair. "I can't say as there's all that much on why the name was chosen, but who named it? That I can certainly tell you." She took a sip of her tea and grimaced, leaning forward to add another lump of sugar. She stirred and took another sip, this time smiling.

"Isaiah Stone," she said, setting her spoon down. "He was our illustrious founder. He, and Michael Putnam with him, raised up this town practically with their own two hands."

"Stone," Sam said, "like Stone College?"

"That's right," Frieda replied, "and Putnam Woods for Michael. They had a falling out in later years, or so it's said. Something about a religious... epiphany, I suppose you could say, on the part of Michael Putnam."

Dean frowned. "A religious epiphany? And this was after they named the town?"

Freda looked surprised, almost taken aback, by the question. "Well, yes," she told the brothers. "His epiphany reportedly didn't bring him closer to the Lord. It turned him away. He lost his faith."

Sam and Dean traded a look, and Sam asked, "He became an atheist?"

"No," Frieda replied, looking actually uncomfortable for the first time in the conversation. "He began to speak about the devil breaking through the seals that bound him, or some such nonsense. About the end times. He claimed that the town would burn in Hell for its sins while the devil danced among the ashes."

That? That sounded like something that was worth investigating. "Thank you,"Ms. Collins," Sam told her. "I think that gives us everything we'll need to get a good start on our paper. Can we call you again if we have any more questions?"

"Of course," she said. "Any time you boys want to come by. You remind me of my grandsons, you know, my daughter's two sons. They'd be about your age right now, I think." Frieda's eyes darkened, and she stood up suddenly. Almost without effort, she began to usher Sam and Dean out of the house. "You two come back any time," she requested. "And if you want, I'll make you up a nice home-cooked meal. You must miss home cooking, being on a long trip like this. How does that sound? Maybe tomorrow night, before you leave town?"

Sam opened his mouth to decline the offer, but Dean cut him off. "That sounds great, Ms. Collins," he said. "We'll come by around six?"

"Let's make it six thirty." They were at the door now, almost being shoved outside. "I hope you boys like turkey!"

The door closed on their faces, leaving Sam and Dean standing, dazed, on the front porch. Dean turned to Sam. "Dude, we are so coming back here tomorrow night."

Almost as one, Sam and Dean turned away from the house and began walking back to the Impala. "Dean, we can't just come back and let some old lady feed us. And who knows what could happen between now and tomorrow night?" He sighed. "Besides, didn't the end of that seem a little... I don't know. Strange, to you? She couldn't get us out of the house fast enough."

"Turkey dinner, Sammy. Think of the turkey dinner."

They reached the car. Sam went frst for the driver's side, without even thinking about it; but when he saw Dean head there, too, and so corrected himself before Dean could notice. "I think you need to stop thinking with your stomach," Sam pointed out. "Let's look into things a little more first, at least, okay?"

Dean frowned at his brother. "Sam, you spoil all my fun," he said. "C'mon, give this Andrew Banks guy a call, see if he'll talk to us."

* * *

Andrew Banks -- "Andy," he said, as he let Sam and Dean into the house. "Call me Andy." -- lived in a three-story monstrosity on several acres of land down a back road outside of town. It was scrupulously clean; Dean had to fight the urge to break something, knock something over, throw something around, just to make the place look and feel a little more normal. "So," Andy continued, as he sat across from the brothers. The 'sitting room', as he'd called it, that he had ushered them to was on the second story, and overlooked the expansive grounds at the back of the house. "What is it I can do for the FBI?"

"We're conducting an investigation of the disappearances in the area," Sam told him. "We've heard that you might have some information. You reported that you heard something? Perhaps saw something?"

Andy's entire demeanour changed. From a calm, cool, and collected man, ready to play with them, used to being in control of conversations and situations, he became agitated, excited, and anxious. "Yes!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide. "Finally, someone who will actually _listen_!" Sam and Dean exchanged a look, but Andy continued before they could interject. "Two weeks ago, I was walking through the woods -- Putnam Woods, you can see, I'm sure, how the Banks property comes right up against it if you look at the window over here -- when I heard the strangest sound. It was as if some giant bird was flapping its wings, you see, but to make that kind of sound the bird would have to be as big as this room. And then there was this light, this bright, bright light, that shone through the trees." He paused here, and licked his lips. some of his manic energy seemed to drain away. "It was the strangest thing. It was as if the light made everything look..." He trailed off, staring into the distance.

"Made everything look what?" Dean prompted.

"As if the light made everything look more real." Andy looked at the brothers again, meeting Dean's eyes with an intense gaze. "I don't know that I want to think about what could make a light like that," he said. "It can't have been something of this Earth. It was definitely something... other. An alien, or a spirit, or something from beyond the grave."

Sam nodded. "Where were you in the woods?" he asked, pulling out a folded up map of the local area. He and Dean had picked it up on the way out to the Banks house. "Do you know roughly where?" He unfolded the map on the table and held a pen out to Andy. "If you could mark it on here, that would greatly help out investigation."

Andy looked at the map a moment, all at once seeming to come back to himself and return to the collected man that had answered the door. "Right about here," he said, tracing a line from the Banks property, which he first sketched out, to a point about halfway into the woods. "There's an old deer path that I like to walk sometimes. I find it calming."

"I wouldn't have taken you for the hiking type," Dean said, looking over the map, trying to figure out if there were any landmarks in the area that would be useful to navigate by. "Do you go out in the woods often?"

"Not as much as I used to." Andy shrugged, a very casual action. "I'm the only Banks left; there's a lot of work to be done taking care of the house, especially without the servants, so most of my time is taken up here. Still, I grew up here, and in the woods. It was like my own personal playground." He smiled, taking control of the conversation. "Will that be all, gentleman? As I said, my time is quite limited. If you don't have any further questions..."

Sam shook his head. "No, that should be all we need, at least for now." He looked over at Dean, who pulled a card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"If you think of anything else that might be helpful," he said, handing the card to Andy, "give us a call. You'll reach the office, and they can pass along any messages you have for us."

Andy took the card, holding it gingerly between two fingers. "I'll do that," he assured them. "Now, I really must insist. Perhaps I'll see you again before you leave town?"

Sam nodded, and he and Dean followed their host back to the entrance. Dean rolled his eyes behind Andy's back. "You can bet on it," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "We'll definitely be talking again."


	2. Hunting for Snipe/Follow You Down

It was coming on to late afternoon by the time Sam and Dean got back to the motel. Mitchell was outside of the office when they drove up, and he tossed the brothers a cheery wave just before he turned the corner around one of the other buildings and was gone from sight. Sam unlocked the door to the room, pausing for a moment. "Something feels wrong," he said.

"What? Like what?"

"I'm not sure," Sam said. "Just, something feels wrong. Like there's something different than there was before."

Dean rolled his eyes. "You're imagining things. C'mon, let's see if we can figure-" A scream cut him off. Dean and Sam looked at each other, eyes wide, before they ran off together towards the source of the sound, each pulling his gun from the small of his back as they went. As they got closer, they heard another sound, like giant wings flapping. "That'd be a pretty big bird," Dean said, his hand falling to his sidearm. "Didn't that Mitchell kid come around this way?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Let's take this carefully." The flapping sound was fading, now, and a strange light was shining around the corner of the building as Sam and Dean came up to it, guns held ready. "On three," Sam mouthed silently. "One. Two. Three."

The brothers jumped around the corner, Sam aiming high and Dean aiming low. But there was nothing to see: no one was there, not even Mitchell. Instead, all that was there was three lone feathers, wafting gently to and fro as they floated to the ground. "Something really weird is going on here," Sam said, frowning. He leaned down to pick up the feathers. "And I think we need to figure out what."

They went back to their room, trying now to be a lot more careful, paying more attention to their surroundings. This wasn't just happening elsewhere, now, it was right on top of where they were staying. They had no idea if they could even be next. "Any idea what kind of feathers those are?" Dean asked. "They look a bit big to be bird feathers."

"I don't know," Sam replied. "They're completely white, too. No kind of colour variation, not even anything faint. I'll give Bobby a call, see if he can think of anything that would leave feathers behind like this."

He went off to do that, taking his cell phone outside; the reception inside the building itself was remarkably poor. Dean kicked off his shoes and sat down on his bed, leaning forward and staring at the spot where Castiel had sat the night before. He felt afterwards like he should have expected the voice before he heard it, but when a familiar voice asked, "Where did you get those?" Dean jumped.

"Jesus, don't _do_ that," Dean swore, turning to Castiel. "We just found them. Outside, like two minutes ago. A kid disappeared and these were the only thing left. Why, do you recognise them?"

Castiel opened his mouth, as if he were going to reply, but instead stopped and shook his head. "Maybe not," he said. "I'll let you know if I think of anything, if it'll get you out of town faster. I was sent to warn you again. You need to get out of town. The hunt doesn't matter."

Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel. "Like Hell it doesn't," he said. "There are innocent people disappearing in this town. I'm not just going to stand by and let that happen for God knows how long while we try to find another hunter who can come up here and take care of it. And I think that if I weren't the kind of person who'd do that, you wouldn't have dragged me out of Hell in the first place."

It was to Dean's gratification that Castiel winced at that, perhaps the first honestly serious emotion he'd witnessed from the angel -- at least the most intense. "You're right," he said. "If you weren't that kind of person, you wouldn't have been worth dragging out of Hell. But it's because you are that kind of person that we need you safe." Castiel stepped forward, kneeling in front of where Dean sat on the bed. "Dean, please, listen to me. You need to get out of town. I don't have all the information. They don't tell me everything. Even if they did, I don't know that I'd be able to tell you. All I can say is that things are going to get very hot here." There was a moment's hesitation before Castiel finished. "Possibly in a very literal sense."

"What, Hell on Earth is going to strike in Angel Falls, Montana? It starts here and spreads out?"

Castiel, to Dean's consternation, merely nodded. "There are indications that there's a seal here," he said. "And I shouldn't even be telling you this much. If you're going to stay... There's a seal, I think. And it may be the most important one yet."

Dean nodded. He glanced over at the door. "You should be telling this to Sam, too," he said. "Sammy! C'mon-" But before he could finish, Castiel was gone. "Fuck, I wish he'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Sam asked, walking into the room. "What, was Castiel back?"

"Yeah, and he pulled his disappearing act again."

Sam gave Dean a careful look. "Y'know, if he doesn't stop disappearing right before I enter the room, I'm going to start thinking you've got an invisible friend or something."

Dean rolled his eyes, slipping his suit jacket off. He stood up, undoing the buttons on his shirt. "That's hilarious, Sammy, really. C'mon, let's go get some food. _After_ I change out of this monkey suit."

"I think you mean penguin suit," Sam pointed out, slipping his own suit jacket off and loosening his tie before pulling it off, still tied. "And yeah, food sounds good. It's been a while since lunch. You want to check out the woods tonight?"

"What else would we be doing?" Dean asked. "Hurry up. The diner closes early on Fridays."

"You haven't even been there yet. How do you know that?"

Dean gave Sam a look. "We've driven past it. It's a diner. Of course I know what time it closes."

Sam shrugged, slipping off his dress shirt and throwing a t-shirt on instead. He elected to leave his suit pants on for now, finishing off the outfit with a hoodie. "I guess so," he said. "You do have your priorities."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Laughing, Sam tossed Dean his wallet. "Nothing," he said. "C'mon, let's go."

* * *

Sam reached into his pocket as he and Dean walked along in the forest. He wasn't quite certain why, but he'd pocketed the feathers before he and Dean left for dinner, and he'd brought them along, too, when they began to venture into Putnam Woods. It wasn't quite dark yet, although it was getting close. "Are you sure we should have-- Maybe we should have waited for morning," Sam said. "I'm not sure we'll be able to find our way out of here in the dark."

"We'll be fine," Dean replied confidently. "We've got the map, and the trees aren't thick enough to block out the stars. What, you think you won't be able to navigate your way out of here?"

Sam shrugged. "Just saying," he said. "We've done smarter things before."

"Dumber, too," Dean pointed out. "Anyway, I don't think waiting until the morning would matter, or even be a good idea. Whatever's taking people clearly isn't sticking to the nights, so the only thing to worry about..." He trailed off. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what? I don't hear anything."

"Exactly. There isn't any wildlife. At all. I don't think I've heard any since we entered the woods."

Sam thought back, trying to recall if he'd noticed anything moving, or calling, or anything of the sort. "I think you're right," he said. "I don't think there's been anything. Do you think it's because of whatever is causing the disappearances? It scared off the wildlife?"

Dean shrugged. "Must be," he said. "Watch out, root." He stepped over it, and Sam followed suit. "I can't think of any other reason. I don't think I've seen any stray animals or anything in town, either, come to think of it. Just a few cats in windows."

"That's really weird," Sam said. "Whatever's causing the disappearances... I can't think of anything that would take animals. It's _got_ to be scaring them. But you'd think someone would notice, wouldn't you? Something like this, it's not going to be just for a few days, not something as wide-scale as this."

The two walked through the woods, doing their best to keep quiet. As it got darker, Sam slipped out a flashlight, using it to light their way as they traveled in to where Andy had been, as best as he could tell, when he witnessed the event. The similarities to what they'd seen happen at the motel were impossible to deny, so whatever had taken Mitchell was definitely whatever had been around in the woods. Sam wished he had a hand free, now; he had the urge to touch the feathers again, but with the map in one hand and the flashlight in the other it was impossible.

"I thought I said you two should leave town." Out of the darkness in front of them stepped Ruby, who sighed when the Winchesters drew beads on her before relaxing. "Thanks, guys. Way to make a girl feel welcome."

"What are you doing out here?" Sam asked.

"Same thing as you two, as far as I can tell," Ruby said. "They didn't punish me for going into an interdicted area, for some reason. Instead, I've got orders to look for something out in the woods. Something to do with one of the disappearances that's been going on around here lately. I don't know any more than that, they said that I'd know what I was looking for when I found it."

Dean shrugged. "Well, if you want to tag along," he said, implying that it was okay, but he sounded anything but okay with it. "I guess I'm not going to try and stop you."

Sam reached over to poke Dean in the shoulder. "I don't suppose you know anything else about what's going on?" he asked.

"Just that the woods stink of angel, too, and even worse than the town does," Ruby told them. "Don't ask me why. I don't think there's actually been an angel around here for ages, at least not in this area of the woods. It's hard to tell further out, the trees are masking any scents."

Sam nodded, picking the map up from where he'd dropped it to allow him to pull his gun. Dean muttered, "Great. Just what we need: a bloodhound." Ruby pretended not to hear him, but Sam gave him a little shove.

"Shut up," he said. "She's trying to help."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Dean replied. "How do you know she's not going to screw with us?"

Sam sighed, wondering what it would take to actually convince Dean that Ruby was on their side. "You know why I trust her," he said. "If that's not enough for you..."

Dean started to reply, but Ruby cut him off. "I'm standing right here, you know," she said. "I can hear every word you're saying."

"Sorry, Ruby," Sam replied. "My brother's just being an idiot. Again."

Dean bitchfaced at Sam and took off in the lead, stopping a few steps in when he realised he didn't actually know which way they were supposed to be going. "Sammy?" he said. "Where's that map?"

* * *

It wasn't that much further along when Ruby stopped and raised one hand. "Shh," she said. "There's an angel coming." She drew her weapon, a wicked looking dagger that glimmered in a way that made Dean nervous.

"Dean?" It was a familiar voice that echoed out of the shadows. "What are you doing with this... thing?" Castiel came towards them, the darkness before him like the sea before Moses, seeming to pull to either side. "She'll only lead you astray."

"I could say the same of you," Ruby retorted, wrinkling her nose. "What have you done for Sam and Dean other than offer them cryptic guidance and bad orders?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, then moved forward to separate the two. "Ruby," Sam said, "this is Castiel. He's a friend. Castiel, this is Ruby. _She's_ a friend." The two, demon and angel, stared at each other for a moment before turning away and trying to talk at once. Each kept trying to talk over the other, with the end result of a giant mumbling mush of words that neither Sam nor Dean could make out.

"Whoa, whoa, guys, wait up," Dean said, raising his hands. "Slow down. We can't make you out. Cas, you first."

The angel nodded. "I'm here to guide you," he said. "I've been told that if you won't leave like you've been asked to, then I'm to render whatever help I can offer instead. I think I can take you right where you need to go."

"That'll be great," Sam said. "Do you know what's there?"

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, shaking his head. "I don't. All I know is that I need to guide you."

Ruby was taking a few steps back. "I'm sorry, if you think I'm traveling with an angel, have I got news for you. I'll catch you all later," she said. "When you've acquired some _sanity_, unlikely as that is." She faded into the darkness, heading off on her own.

Castiel looked at the brothers Winchester. "Well?" he said. "Shall we continue?" Without waiting for a response, he headed off. Sam took a surreptitious look at the map, first, to see if Castiel was taking them in the right direction, but when that seemed to be the case for at least a couple of minutes, he folded the map up and slipped it away, content to follow behind the angel.

It didn't take long to reach the point where Andy had said he'd been. Sam almost hadn't realised they'd gotten there, but Castiel came to an abrupt halt. "It was here," he said. "Or... Right over there." He pointed, his trenchcoat floating out behind him as a breeze struck up. It reminded Sam eerily of wings, and he wondered if that was the intended effect, or if it was a coincidence. "So whatever this Andrew Banks saw, it was very near here."

"Can you sense anything?" Dean asked. "I'm just saying, if you can point us in the right direction..."

Castiel shook his head, to Sam's frustration, and, to judge by the muttered curse words, to Dean's, as well. "It's not that simple," he said. "Things about this town, and these woods, are... odd. I don't know if I can even explain it."

"Try," Sam said, stepping forward. He slipped his gun back into the waist of his pants at the small of his back, kneeling down on the forest floor, trying to see if there was anything to track. "Or is that too hard for you?"

Dean glanced at Sam, but Castiel shrugged. "It's like there's too much of everything," he said. "As I told Dean before, there is every indication that there's a major seal here to be broken, but I don't know what it is. No one can tell me."

Sam looked up sharply at that. "Or no one _will_ tell you," he added. "Isn't that a possibility?"

"Yes, I... I suppose it is." Castiel's face darkened here, looking perhaps the most human that Sam had ever actually seen it seem. "There is the possibility that I'm not being told everything. It's highly unlikely that I'm being lied to outright, however."

"But still possible," Dean pointed out. "Any idea why that might be?"

"I'm just an angel. A messenger of the Lord our Father. If I'm not being told, there's a reason." But there was a hesitation there. Sam thought he could put a name to it, and call it doubt, but he wouldn't say so out loud. For all that he wasn't terribly fond of Castiel, the man -- so to speak -- _was_ an angel, and he'd respect him at least a little for that.

Perhaps not Uriel. Sam was rather hoping to avoid seeing that particular angel ever again.

Sam tuned out the conversation as Dean and Castiel continued talking, their voices quiet enough that it was easy to not listen, for they didn't carry very far. He stepped further away, brushing aside some branches, and trying to see what was ahead of him. "Guys," he said, "I think I've found something." In front of him there was a mound, covered in earth and rocks, with a jagged scar down one side that led into even deeper darkness. As he shone his flashlight over the rent, Sam couldn't see, even with the illumination, further than an inch or two past the entrance. "Any idea what it is? If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was a fairy mound."

Castiel and Dean came over; Sam moved forward a little more, moved aside so that they had room to step up behind him. "I think it's just a cave," Castiel said, as he walked right up to the entrance and ran a hand down one edge of the scar. "There's nothing odd about this itself. I'm not so sure about what's in it."

"We should rest here for a bit," Dean said, slipping his duffle off his back. "Before we head down. Ten minutes, twenty tops; if there's something funky down there, I don't want to face it tired."

Castiel turned quickly to Dean. "Are you still not rested?" he asked, concern in his eyes, and Sam had to reconsider his previous assessment: _now_ the angel looked human. "I can give you rest and comfort again, if you wish."

"What? No." Dean shook his head. "I just mean from hiking. We're pretty far into the woods, and the night's not over yet."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I think it's a good idea, too," he said, happy to have something about which to side with his brother. "It can't hurt to be at the top of our game when we go in."

"I... suppose that makes sense," Castiel agreed, looking almost confused, or perhaps a bit nonplussed. "Yes, if you both wish to rest, I suppose now would be the best time. There doesn't seem to be anything dangerous around."

Sam slipped to the ground, leaning against a tree, doing his best to keep his senses alert. He fished a battered chocolate bar out of his pocket. Dean mimicked him, leaning his head back against his own tree, and began tapping his fingers on his knees, his eyes closed, clearly working through some song -- Metallica, perhaps, or possibly Led Zeppelin -- in his head in an effort to relax. Castiel remained standing, looking out into the woods, studiously ignoring the cave not a metre and a half away.

After a long moment, Sam spoke again. "I suppose you don't really need rest, do you?" he asked. "Can you eat? I've got a second chocolate bar."

Castiel looked over, surprise evident in his eyes, but the rest of his face did nothing to betray the emotion. "I can eat, yes," he said. "It doesn't offer nourishment, but some angels have come to enjoy it for the pleasure food can bring, as best as we can feel it."

"That sounds like it kinda sucks," Sam said, reaching into the inside pocket of his coat. "I mean, if you can't feel much of anything, what's the point of life?"

"To serve our Lord and maker." Castiel took the second chocolate bar as Sam held it out, taking a moment to stare at it curiously before he began unwrapping it. He did it slowly, not with effort, but as if he was taking the time to enjoy the act of opening the packaging as well as the expectation of the confection within. "We need nothing else. It's what we are born for, the very reason of our being."

Sam nodded, taking a bite of his bar. He chewed and swallowed before answering. "You don't have anything else?" he asked. "Anna..."

"Anna is an abomination," Castiel retorted, but not with anger. He merely stated it as fact. "She stepped away from the Lord when she refused to obey her orders. The fact that she has regained her grace... I'm surprised it was even allowed. But all things have their place in the ineffable plan."

That got a snort out of Sam, and he thought he heard Dean repressing one as well. "Ineffable is just a word to say that you can't figure it out," Sam replied. "Or that you're not supposed to. Maybe that's because whoever's plan it is -- God or whoever else -- they don't want anyone to figure out the endgame."

Castiel said nothing in return to that, turning back away from Sam, who took the clear hint that the conversation was over. The younger Winchester went back to his chocolate bar, making as much of an effort to enjoy it as possible, almost rebelliously, in an effort to prove that he was better to the angel.

Not that the angel noticed.

* * *

As they got ready to enter the cave, Sam noticed something on the ground. "It's another feather," he said absently, leaning down to pick it up. "Just like the ones from before."

"Another one?" Castiel asked. "Are you certain? Exactly like the others?"

"Why? Does it mean something to you?" Dean came forward to look at the feather in Sam's hand. "Just looks like a feather to me, I guess. But it is odd that there would be another one right here, isn't it?"

"What aren't you telling us?" Sam asked Castiel, who shook his head. "Can't tell us, or won't?"

Castiel shook his head again. "With me, with any angel, there's very little difference," he said. "Our wills, such as they are, have never been our own." Sam couldn't help but grow distrustful of the angel again. He was a much as telling them not to trust him, after all. Still, he reflected that he and Dean had very little choice: there wasn't exactly much the could do against an angel.

Sam stepped first into the cave, finding it angling down sharply a few steps in, so although he had to duck at first, with the floor descending at a much faster rate than the ceiling, he could straighten up to his full height before long. "Any idea how far down this might go?" he asked. What small illumination coming in through the mouth of the cave had faded away to darkness, so he was relying on his flashlight completely; luckily, in the deep shadow, its light was more than enough. "I haven't seen a cave formation quite like this before."

Dean shrugged from where he was taking up the rear, his gun drawn once again and ready to aim at anything that moved other than his brother and Castiel. "It's definitely weird," he said. "Be careful. You see anything at all?"

"Just more rock," Sam replied. "And it looks like it might end a little further ahead. I don't think there's anything in here to worry about."

They were about to turn around -- Sam's flashlight was clearly shining on rock in front of him, and the light, when he moved it around, showed the same dead ends to either side. "We could look for a split," he said, "see if there's somewhere the cave goes off, but I didn't notice anything on the way down." Before anyone could reply, though, Castiel let out a high keening scream, collapsing to the ground. His overcoat rippled across his back, as if something were trying to escape.

The floor beneath Sam vanished and he fell, completely unprepared, into the dark depths.

* * *

"Sammy? Damn it all to Hell, Sammy, answer me!"

His head ached. His body ached. And there was something or someone calling his name. "What-" Sam tried to sit up and winced, grimaced, let out a small yelp as something, a broken bone, perhaps, shifted against itself inside his arm. He took a deep breath and tried again, being more careful this time to avoid putting any weight on his arm. "What happened?" he asked. "Are you guys okay?"

Looking around now, Sam, his vision still blurry, realised that there was strong illumination in whatever part of the cave he'd found. From above, he could hear Dean moving around, and a sad, sick moaning that had to be Castiel. "I'm fine, but something's wrong with Cas," Dean said. "Do you see any way out there? Another cave that might go to the surface?"

"Give me a second," Sam said, getting to his feet, cradling his broken arm against his torso. "I don't-" He cut himself off as his vision cleared and he saw what was casting the light.

All around him, carved into the walls of what was clearly a natural 'room', some kind of bubble, perhaps, in the rock of the cave, were shelves, a dozen high and all the way around. Each one was covered with small crystals, ornamented with gold and silver, and each crystal shone with a brilliant white light. Sam couldn't help but recognise the from the one time he'd seen one before:

Grace. The entire cave was filled with the grace of hundreds, maybe thousands, of angels.

"Dean, you're not going to believe this," Sam said, stepping forward, reaching out with his good hand to pick up one of the grace-holding crystals. "The entire cave is..." He trailed off.

"The entire cave is what?" Dean called, but Sam's attention was drawn by another one of the crystals. He moved a little down the wall, and picked up the crystal that was calling his attention. He spasmed, though, as he jostled his arm just slightly, and dropped the crystal almost before it was in his hand, and as it hit the ground it shattered, the light inside spiralling up around him. "Sam? What the fuck is happening down there?!" Dean shouted, and Castiel's cries grew louder, taking on an animalistic quality that shocked Sam for the single moment longer that he was conscious before every other crystal in the room flared up, the light inside each one glowing brighter than the sun, and a silent explosion shattered every single one, leaving Sam in darkness, collapsing once more to the ground.

* * *

Castiel was calm once again as he jumped down into the cavern. He'd found the pain -- oh, the pain, such pain as he had not though an angel _could_ feel, much less ever would -- gone as suddenly as the light had faded, and he'd known what must have been the cause. He'd 'flown' Dean first out to the Impala, where he waited now, using the ways that angels had to move between one point and the next. It had been his first time with a passenger, and he didn't look forward to repeating the tiring experience.

He looked around himself now, taking in what had occured in the room beneath the cave. There were crystal shards everywhere, jagged pieces of quartz and diamond, that glimmered to his angel's sight with the residue of power. It was all the illumination he needed to pick out Sam where he lay prone on the floor. "I'm sorry," Castiel said softly, kneeling down to pick him up into the angel's arms. He closed his eyes as he saw what had happened to the man, and it was with sadness, and not a little disgust, that he wondered how this was part of the plan, the great, ineffable plan.

There was another step, a moment's action to take him from the cave to where Dean waited by the car. Castiel was still in the woods at first, still within the shadows, and as he stepped out Dean gave an inarticulate cry at the sight of his brother cradled, limp, in the angel's arms. But what struck Castiel most was not the sight of Dean's anguish, Dean's fear that Sam had, in fact, left him once again. It was when Dean saw what now dragged along the ground, hanging just as limp as Sam himself, that Castiel felt his heart go out to Dean, for Dean could be nothing but shocked at the sight of the great black wings that now hung from Sam's back, his shirt torn asunder and hanging from him in rags.


	3. Fly Away Home/On a Wing and a Prayer

Dean pulled into the motel, sitting in the car for a moment longer after he turned off the ignition. He wasn't sure he could get out of the car right now, much less go into the motel room, where Castiel had promised he would be waiting with Sam.

Sam, who now had _wings_, and how fucked up was _that_?

Still, he had to go in, and so after a deep breath, and another, and a few hummed bars of Enter Sandman, Dean got out of the car and walked up to the door to the room. "Cas?" he called out, before he even brought the key up to the doorknob. "It's Dean. I'm here." Castiel had offered to take Sam back to the room by the same methods he used to 'jump' from place to place, the same way that he had moved Dean before, and brought Sam out of the cave in the first place.

"It will be easier," he had said, "then trying to get him into the car." Castiel had seemed shaken up to Dean, something he'd not expected to see of an angel at any time, much less the mostly unflappable Castiel, but he'd seen a lot of unexpected behaviour from Castiel over the course of the night. "Come in," came the call through the door, Castiel's, and not Sam's as Dean had hoped. Whatever had happened to his brother, he must still be unconscious.

Dean unlocked the door with his key, and opened it slowly. "How's he doing?" he asked, his first concern, of course, for his brother. "Anything yet?"

"Nothing," Castiel said. "It's strange. I can't really say what happened. He appears to have... He feels almost like an angel. He must have taken in grace."

"So he's an angel now?" Dean asked, wondering why the angel seemed so concerned about it. "You said feels 'almost' like one. Why only almost?"

"You have to understand, grace doesn't do that," Castiel said, his voice as calm as it ever was. He looked at Dean, sad somehow, for some reason, and shook his head. "You can't just-- There's a resonance. To take in grace, you need to already be part of it. It's why Anna needed to find her own, why she couldn't just go looking for the first grace she could find."

Dean's gaze slipped off the angel, slipped over to where Sam lay silent, still just as limp as he'd been when Castiel took him from the cave. "So what happened to Sammy, then?" he asked, resisting somehow the urge to reach out and stroke his hand down one tender wing. "Is it some kind of... I dunno. Demonic trick?"

Castiel sat down on Dean's bed; if Dean had to choose a word to describe the way the angel looked, it would be 'defeated'. "No, it's definitely grace. I can... He feels like an angel, now, only not quite. Not completely. It's... disconcerting. I can barely stand being here in the room with him. When the other angels notice -- and they will -- they're going to want to find him. And kill him."

"Well, that's nothing new to us," Dean pointed out. "Things try to kill us every day. How do we stop them?"

Castiel's eyes came up to meet Dean's, and to hold the gaze, and Dean was struck by how intense the angel's eyes were. "You can't," he said simply. "No matter how good you are, how great a hunter. The angels can come at you any time, anywhere you go. There's no hiding from them. And there's no way to kill an angel," Castiel added. "No way for any man to stop one of the messengers of God. There are so very few ways for an angel to do it, in fact, that I don't believe it's occured more than twice in the entire history of our existence. It's why it was so important for us to stop Anna before she reclaimed her grace. Once she had it, once she became an angel again... There's almost no way to stop her, now. She's free to do whatever she will."

On the bed, Sam stirred, all at once life seeming to flow back into his body, but still he didn't awaken. His wings, previously so very limp, folded around him, and he curled himself into a ball within their dark embrace. "Here's a question," Dean said. "Why does he have _wings_? You don't exactly see angels going about with them all the time."

"Don't you?" Castiel asked. "Of course we have wings. It's one of the symbols of our rank and our power. The difference is that we have the ability to 'pull them in', to rein in their manifestation. It appears that Sam either doesn't know how to do that, hasn't been able to yet, or just doesn't have the ability for whatever reason. Quite honestly, it's the most disturbing part about this for me." He reached out to touch one of the feathers, smoothing it down where it was sticking, just a bit, at an odd angle.

"So you think he'll be able to hide them after this?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded. "With any luck," he said, "Sam should have no trouble at all passing as human."

"Great." Dean tried to find a little humour in the situation, joking, "He never managed it very well before, after all." But the joke was clearly lost on Castiel, who just gave Dean a look.

"Perhaps you should rest," Castiel said. "You've had a very long night, and there's nothing we can do until Sam wakes up on his own."

Dean thought about resisting, about trying to stay up, but then he remembered how Castiel had bespelled him before. "Fine," he said, "but wake me up the minute anything changes."

"You have my word." Castiel got up from the bed, leaving it for Dean, who slipped out of his coat, his shoes, and his pants, falling onto the bed in t-shirt and boxers. He barely made it under the sheets before he fell asleep, falling away into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Dean awoke about two hours later to the sound of the phone ringing. He wondered first who would be calling at eight o'clock in the morning before the events of the night rushed back to him and he jerked up. "Any change?" he asked Castiel, who was staring at the ringing cellphone as if it were a demonic beast unleashed upon them. Without waiting for an reply, he answered the phone and brought it up to his ear. "Hello?" he said.

"Is this Dean?" came the voice on the other end, and while it was immediately familiar, it took a moment to place it, the name coming to him a scant moment before she announced herself. "It's Frieda Collins calling. I realise that it's perhaps a bit early, but I remember something that I think you and your brother ought to see. Could you come over this morning? As soon as possible."

Dean glanced to Sam first, ready to say that they weren't able to make it, but Castiel nodded. "Go," he said. "Whatever it is, it may be relevant to the situation at hand. I'll watch over Sam."

"Has something happened?" Frieda asked. "Is your brother all right?"

"He's fine," Dean lied smoothly. "Just got into a bit of a brawl last night with some frat boys out at Stone College. Our friend just wants to make sure he doesn't have a concussion or anything, that's all. I can come over now."

Frieda 'hmm'd into the phone. "Well, if you're sure it's okay," she said, her voice full of enough worry to make Dean wonder what was going on that she'd be so concerned. "You remember, I trust, where I live?" Dean rattled off the address. "That's right. I'll see you soon, then, Dean."

"Ten minutes, tops," Dean replied. "Bye, Ms. Collins." He disconnected the call and turned to Castiel. "What was that about?" he asked. "Why would something some old lady has to tell us be relevant to the fact that my _brother has wings_?"

"Call it... angelic intuition," Castiel said. "Nothing solid, just a feeling."

Dean shook his head as he slipped on yesterday's clothes, taking a moment to switch out his t-shirt, at least, for a new one. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on before picking up his keys. "If anything happens? _Call me_. I don't care how scared you are of a telephone." He didn't want for a response before opening the door and exiting, leaving Castiel to watch over the still-unconscious Sam.

Twenty minutes later -- Castiel may not be fond of phones, but clocks were certainly an interesting and useful invention -- there was a knock at the door. "Sam? Dean? Are you guys in there?" Castiel hesitated -- he could feel what was on the other side of the door -- but elected to open it, revealing Ruby on the other side. "What are _you_ doing here?" she demanded, barging in around him. She gasped when she got into the room and saw Sam lying on the bed. "What happened to him?" Ruby reached out, almost touching Sam's wings, before pulling her hand back as if from heat, afraid she might be burned if she made contact. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," Castiel said. "I'm sure you can feel it now. He has attained grace."

"But not all the way," Ruby replied. "There's something... He's not an angel. He's still _Sam_, he's not some mindless drone."

Castiel shrugged. "Perhaps," he said. "We shall have to wait and see when he awakens." He didn't let on that he thought, perhaps, that Ruby was right.

Still, it was strange to see the demon so caring. Castiel watched as Ruby dragged a chair over beside Sam's bed and sat there, beside him, her hand twitching occasionally as if she wanted to reach out and take Sam's hand but was resisting, for whatever reason. Perhaps she was scared, Castiel mused, of what would happen if they touched.

Demons and angels weren't exactly the most compatible of creatures. Still, Ruby, Castiel was coming to realise, was not a typical demon, and Sam was most certainly not any kind of angel that Castiel had seen before. Black was not a colour seen terribly often in heaven; it marked Sam in a way that Castiel couldn't yet understand.

He sat down on Dean's bed once more, ready to keep watching Sam from a position opposite Ruby. "Dean will be back soon," he said. "I told him I'd watch Sam until he returned."

"You don't need to," Ruby told him. "I'll stay with him. I'm sure you have some kind of angel business to get back to."

"I gave my word," Castiel told her. "And I'll do everything I can to keep it."

* * *

"Dean!" Frieda Collins said as he opened her door. "Come in, come in, quickly. There isn't much time."

Dean followed the old woman into her house, looking around. It looked -- not ransacked, as if someone had come in and torn it to pieces, but as if Frieda herself had done so, boxes open and the objects that had been in them strewn about, drawers pulled from the cabinets that held them, closets thrown wide open and their contents pushed aside. "What happened?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"I was afraid I wouldn't find it," Frieda told him, avoiding the question itself. "I had it in the knife drawer, of all things, in the kitchen, as if that's any place -- but that's not important." She led Dean through the house to the aforementioned kitchen, where, on the counter, was sitting a dagger in a sheath. Both sheath and hilt were heavily ornamented with carvings. Dean couldn't identify the material at first sight, but he could tell that, whatever it was, it was _old_. "This is for you," Frieda said, picking it up and holding it out to Dean. "It's an old family heirloom, but I think it needs to go to you now. Still, _please_ take care of it."

Dean took the dagger, sliding it out of the sheath just a bit, just enough to see the light glint against a black blade, a dark blue-black like the sky at midnight on a moonless night. "This is..." He took it out all the way, not surprised to see tiny flecks in the material of the blade -- it wasn't metal, and was certainly no stone that Dean had ever seen -- like stars in the sky, little bits that caught the light in a way that no earthly material could. Or should. "This is ridiculous. Where did you get this? Who _are_ you?"

"Come to dinner tonight," Frieda said, "and maybe I'll tell you. For now, you're going to need that if you're going to get through the day."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. "What's it for?"

Before Frieda could answer, there was a sound, one almost familiar now to Dean, from outside the house: the sound of huge wings flapping against the air. Moments later, the front door to the house burst inwards, and in strode a figure holding a flaming sword. The person -- the angel, Dean realised, seeing the brilliantly white wings that waved in the air behind him -- was so incongrous to his entrance that it took Dean a few long moments to recognise him.

It was Mitchell, the office boy from the motel, disappeared not twenty-four hours before. "You're an _angel_?" Dean asked, incredulous. "I did _not_ see that coming."

"Frieda Collins!" Mitchell said, but it was clear from his voice -- as if, Dean couldn't help but think, the wings and the _giant flaming sword_ weren't enough of a clue on their own -- that it wasn't Mitchell speaking. "Frieda Collins!" he repeated. "Your time has come! Your judgment is now! You are to be taken to be called to eternal justice for your sins!"

Frieda shrank back behind Dean, but it wasn't entirely with fear, Dean realised, as she spoke. "And what sins are those?" she answered. "I worship no god of yours. I do not recognise his authority to judge me, or yours."

Dean stared, unable to take in _quite_ what was happening, as Mitchell replied, "You think we care what thoughts or whims you have? His judgment is perfect. His judgment is undeniable. Your sins will be weighed and counted."

Frieda snorted. "That'll take a while, if we're going by your methods," she retorted. "Dean! What are you waiting for? Use the damn knife!"

Mitchell's attention was immediately drawn to the bared blade in Dean's hand, and his eyes widened in shock. "Where did you _get_ that?" he asked. "You will tell me where you found that blade!"

Dean just shrugged, stepping forward. Even as he got closer, he couldn't feel any actual heat coming off the flaming sword, and he wondered why. "She gave it to me," he said, with a shrug. "Don't know what it's for, but if she says I should use it..." He made as if to dash forward, and Mitchell brought the sword up to block Dean -- but it was a false rush, as Dean dodged to the side and threw the dagger almost point-blank around the fiery blade to strike Mitchell in the chest.

Mitchell screamed, an unearthly cry like nothing Dean had ever heard before, which said rather a lot. He collapsed to his knees, first, and then fell forward on his hands as the sword clattered to the side, the flames going out almost immediately, and not scorching anything they touched. The wings at Mitchell's back began to fall apart, feathers falling towards the floor but never reaching it; they faded away into nothing before they could reach the floor. Dean reached forward to wrench the dagger from Mitchell's chest. No blood spurted from the wound, which rather surprised Dean, but as Mitchell fell to the floor, unconscious, wings gone and the sword following behind, Dean rolled him over and saw that the dagger had left no wound on Mitchell's body, not even a faint scar, much less the gaping stab wound that should have been present. "What just happened?" he asked Frieda, who was leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, as if she'd just run a footrace. Dean supposed that it must have been a stress for her, seeing that, no matter what she knew about what was going on.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Frieda said, although when she looked up she gave Dean an appraising once-over. "Although you? You might believe me after all. Still, some other time. Tonight, if you make it to dinner."

On the floor, Mitchell groaned, levering himself up on his hands, then twisting over to sit with a thud. "What- Where am I?" he asked, looking around in wonder. Dean realised that he should perhaps hide the knife before the boy noticed it, sheathing it and slipping it into his boot, then slipping his pant leg over it. "Frieda? What am I doing here?"

"You've had a bit of an episode," Frieda said, coming forward to help the boy to his feet. Dean jumped over to do the same. "Nothing to worry about, just a bit of wanderlust, that's all. Are you feeling all right? You tripped when you came in the door, I don't wonder that you might have shocked yourself back to yourself."

Mitchell nodded blankly. "Yeah, that must be it," he said, shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "Hey, you're Iggy's brother, right?" he asked, spying Dean. "I guess you guys found Ms. Collins, then?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "Here, why don't I take you back to the motel? Or home. Wherever you want." And as quick as he could. Dean was thinking that he needed to get back to the motel as soon as possible. _Something_ was going on here, something to do with angels, and he was starting to think that Castiel might have some of the answers they needed, whether the angel wanted to tell them or not.

"The motel's fine," Mitchell said, seeming to come more and more back to himself, gaining coherence with every passing moment. "My parents own it, we live right next door. Thanks," he added. "I appreciate you giving me a drive."

"Don't mention it." Dean glanced over at Frieda, who nodded slowly, giving him a soft smile. He couldn't help but wish that Mitchell wasn't around so that he could pump Frieda for answers, but with the boy there... "I'll be back tonight," he told Frieda, giving her a significant look. To his frustration and consternation, she smirked at him, clearly amused. "C'mon, Mitchell, let's get you home."

It didn't take long to drive back to the motel, and Mitchell was blissfully quiet the entire way, not trying to engage Dean in conversation at all. The dagger in Dean's boot seemed to add weight to his foot, and he found himself having to force himself to slow down every now and then -- not that he was an overly cautious driver, but there was only so much that he was willing to go over and above the law, at least in this case, inside a town, and the dagger seemed to be pushing him beyond that.

Mitchell gave a vague, non-committal wave when he got out of the car, and muttered something that may have been a quiet thanks, before heading off for what was presumably his house, and Dean made his way into the motel room. He didn't knock first this time, or announce himself; he figured the key in the door was enough warning to keep from being blasted by Castiel with whatever freaky angel blasting-people powers he might have. He was surprised, however, to see Ruby there, too, and to see she and Castiel not at each other's throats, but instead keeping watch over Sam, sitting there calmly. Ruby was even mopping at Sam's brow with a damp cloth, Dean realised, and for a moment the entire scene was so surreal, so _domestic_ (for definitions of domestic that include _my brother has fucking wings_) that he thought he might have wandered into the wrong room. Or possibly the wrong universe -- it's not like it would be the first time.

"Dean," Castiel said, getting up, the barest hint of a smile touching his face. "You're back. What did Ms. Collins want?"

Dean pulled the dagger out of his boot, unsheathing it and holding it up to show Castiel and Ruby, whose attention was immediately drawn to it. "That-" Castiel stared at it, not quite sure what to make of it. "That's angel-forged," he said. "And old. Very old. There hasn't been a dagger like that made since before the Fall. Only-" He stopped, and in an act that merely continued to reinforce the idea that he was becoming increasingly more human, swallowed, as if to clear his throat, and followed up by licking his lips. "Only Lucifer could forge a blade like that," he finished, and Ruby gasped behind him. "It took the Lightbringer to forge starlight into things. No one's been able to duplicate it since."

"_Lucifer_ forged that?" Ruby said, staring at with eyes growing ever wider. She backed away from it, bracing herself against the wall when she reached it. "Are you sure you should be waving that around? Who knows what it can do?"

"Apparently," Dean said, "it can stop angels." He briefly outlined what had gone on at Frieda Collins' residence, including Mitchell's appearance as an angel, completely with flaming sword. "Any idea what was going on there?" he asked Castiel. "Or is that something more that you can't tell us?"

Sam stirred before Castiel could reply, and the attention of all three was drawn to him as he sat up, his wings moving naturally behind him to fold against his back. "What's going on?" he asked, his eyes widening to see Ruby and Castiel in a room together and not trying to kill each other. "How long have I been out? The last thing I remember is... The cave. What happened? I remember seeing all the grace, but..."

"You attained grace," Castiel said, "and the rest around you reacted... violently. What concerns me about that is that someone was collecting it in the first place."

Ruby gave Castiel an odd look. "But you already know who's collecting grace, don't you?" she asked. "Uriel, at least, was carrying Anna's. Wouldn't he have anyone else's, too?"

"What? No," Castiel said. "I can't see Uriel doing that. He... Anna was a special case. He was trying to keep her grace guarded from her, he wasn't out to steal it."

Sam shook his head. "But it was taken from its resting place long before Anna could even think about looking for it," he said. "It might have been stolen years ago. Why would Uriel have taken it that long ago, if Anna wasn't a threat at the time?"

The four of them shared a look, clearly all thinking the same thing, but Castiel shook his head. "No," he said, "I can't see it. Something else must be going on. Dean, you said that Mitchell was carrying a flaming sword?" At Dean's nod, Castiel frowned. "It must have been Michael," he said. "He's the only one who would carry a sword like that. But why would he have gone after someone like Frieda Collins, if he didn't know about the knife?"

"He said it was because of her sins," Dean answered. "Whatever that means. Do people usually get personal visits from angels with flaming swords when they have a troubled youth? Because, seriously, if that's the case, I've got no hope at all."

"It's not normal at all," Castiel explained. "I wish I knew more about what was going on in this town. You're right, there's something going on with angels here, but nothing I know seems to make sense. Nothing at all. I-" He cut himself off, his eyes going once more to the knife Dean had been given. "I think I know what that is," he said. "And if I'm right, we have every reason to be very, very afraid."

It was then, when he moved wrong, that Sam realised that there was something on his back; after a yelp, caused by sitting on the end of his wing when he shifted, Sam reacted by reaching back. "... Dean?" he asked. "Why do I have wings?"

"Like the man -- angel -- whatever. Like Castiel said. You 'attained grace'." Dean rolled his eyes. "So apparently you're, like, almost an angel now or something. Cas, you said it wigged you out, feeling him like that?"

"It's like you're an angel, but not," Castiel told Sam. "I can't explain it any more than that."

Ruby nodded in agreement. "You feel the same way to me," she said, finally reaching out and taking his hand. "It's as if... before, you were mostly human, you know? Just Azazel's blood in you, just enough to make you... stand out a bit, if someone's standing right by you and knows what to look for. But now there's none of that. It's as if most of the human has been washed away, but there's just enough left to tie you down to who you used to be."

"I feel just like I did before," Sam insisted. "Is that... I thought angels were different. I thought they didn't feel the same way that humans do."

Castiel nodded. "They don't," he said. "You're either not an angel at all, if you're sure about that, which I think... I think you may be something completely new. Something the other angels aren't going to like very much."

"At least we have something to defend ourselves with now," Dean said, holding the knife up and giving it a twirl. "Any angels come at us..."

"It won't be enough." Ruby took Sam's hand more firmly, as if trying to prove to herself that he was still there, still physical, could still be touched. "You caught Michael by surprise. That won't happen again, they know you have the knife. They won't send just one angel after you, they'll send two. Five. Ten. Dozens. As many as it takes until they stop you both. That's how angels work." She glared at Castiel here, who looked almost abashed under the gaze. "They don't care what's sacrificed along the way, as long as they follow orders. You saw that with Anna."

Castiel turned away, looking out the window into the parking lot. "Anna was... a mistake," he admitted. "At least, I'm starting to believe that. I think there may be some corruption among the angels," he said. "There's definitely a spy. If someone's corrupting orders, confusing them, or even sending out false ones... Maybe that's what Anna was doing. Maybe it's why she disobeyed. If she discovered that her orders weren't from the Lord, that would explain why she disobeyed."

"And then whoever it was that gave the orders didn't want to be found out, so they forced Anna to fall," Dean finished. "That's almost diabolical."

"It very well could be diabolical," Ruby said. "If Lucifer -- if Satan got someone back into heaven, or convinced one of the angels to side with him after all... It could even go back further than that," she realised. "What if not all the angels who sided with Lucifer were found out? What if some survived the Fall?"

"That's..." Castiel's eyes were drawn once more to the knife, still sparkling in the light outside of the sheath. "I think you may be right," he said. "But I wouldn't know where to start, or who to talk to... Anna, maybe, if she's discovered something, but I can't tell you where I could start looking for her. She's evading our best hunters. I wouldn't have a chance of catching up with her."

"Maybe -- could we convince her to come to us?" Dean asked. "If she finds out that we need her help for something, or even just some information... Maybe the knife would draw her. If she knew that we had it, she might -- we could help her."

"We can try that later," Sam said. "But, Castiel. You were saying something about the knife?"

Castiel blanched, what little colour he had fading from his face. "It's... I think I know what it is," he said. "I think it's the knife that was used to cut out Lucifer's grace. It was lost, taken away somewhere. No one has seen it since. If it made its way to Earth, then perhaps it found its way into the hands of Frieda Collins' family."

"The knife that cut out his _grace_?" Ruby reached out as if to touch the knife. "I thought it was torn out. I thought -- I thought _He_ just tore it out and left Lucifer to fall."

A new voice boomed in the room: "That is none of your concern, demon." Immediately, all four reached for a weapon, the best they could find. Dean held the knife out in front of him, towards the invader.

"Uriel!" Castiel exclaimed, relaxing a bit, only to go on alert once more. "What are you doing here?"

For indeed it was Uriel who stood before them, standing tall, with a smug smile on his face. "I'm here to do what you should be doing," he said. "Destroying the monstrosity and taking revenge on the ones who ruined my hidden stash of grace."

Ruby snorted, and Sam realised it was because she'd been proven right. He frowned as Uriel continued. "You can't honestly be siding with these... mudpuppies, can you, Castiel? And a demon, too." Uriel reached out one hand, almost casually, and clenched it into a fist. At once, Ruby fell to her knees, her hands going to her throat, trying to claw at the invisible grip that held her.

"I thought this would be annoying," Uriel continued, reaching out with his other hand into the air beside him and pulling a flaming sword -- the same one, Dean realised, that Michael had been wielding in Mitchell's body -- out of the nothing that was there so that all at once it was in his previously empty hand. "But I'm starting to realise that I'm going to take great pleasure in ending your existence. Who should go first? You, Sam, who dares to try to reach for what we have? Or you, Dean, who thinks that little toy will harm me? Oh, yes, I know very well what it is."

Uriel's smile widened, and he showed his teeth, startling white in his dark face. It was as if his face were a death mask, come to warn them of their impending demise at his hands. "Or you, Castiel, traitor to your own kind."

"I may have betrayed the angels," Castiel said, "at least those who have been led astray, but my heart still remains with the Lord."

"As long as you believe that," Uriel replied. He 'let go' of Ruby, who fell forward, gasping. Both hands grasped the hilt of the flaming sword. "Perhaps it shall comfort you while I send you into oblivion."


	4. Angels of our Better Natures/Heart of Glass

Dean acted first, rushing forward with the knife in his hand only to be batted away by Uriel and sent flying into the wall. Sam followed shortly after, his wings giving a sickening crack as they crunched against the opposite wall, Uriel's backhanded strike throwing him to the side. "Is that all you've got?" Uriel taunted, his smile widening. "I thought this would be a challenge. The vaunted Winchesters, nothing but rank amateurs and piss-poor fighters." But Sam and Dean both were just getting to their feet, Sam settling his wings with a shake. He realised, too, that his arm had healed, not having noticed before, and he realised that it must be a function of the new angelic side of his nature.

"We can take whatever you can dish out," Sam retorted. "Anything you can throw at us, we can handle."

Uriel swung the sword in front of himself, a casual act no intended to do anything other than be showy. "You have no idea what you face, child," he said, his voice growing low. "I am not some mere angel. I am named for the archangel Uriel, scion of the light, and so I bear a portion of his power within me. The grace I carry with me will be more than enough to throw down some posing puppy."

While Uriel was distracted with Sam, Dean tried to dash in with the knife, but Uriel batted it aside with the flaming sword, not even turning to look. Things were beginning to look very bad for the Winchesters when Ruby and Castiel moved in as well. "I will stop you," Castiel said, flying forward to tackle Uriel. "I don't care what it takes. I will not see God's law perverted. I will see justice brought against all who work against God's will."

"Why, Castiel, don't you realise?" Uriel pushed the angel off and swung at Ruby, who'd been trying to get in a blow at his wrist to make him drop his weapon. "This _is_ God's will. Everything is part of the ineffable plan. Nothing can happen without his involvement or his approval."

"That's not true!" Castiel insisted. "Humans are given free will. They make their own way in the world. They may be nudged by God, and they may ask for his help, but they can make their own choices."

"What you're forgetting," Uriel pointed out, "is that we're not human. We're angels. We are extensions of God's will. Who are you to refuse to perform as that extension? You have no free will. Join me, Castiel, as you are meant to."

Castiel stood tall, and his wings spread behind him. Sam's seemed to react to them, arching up behind him as he stood opposite Castiel. Dean and Ruby, acting almost on instinct, stood at the opposite quarters. "I am an angel," Castiel said, "and so am an extension of God's will. And as that is so, everything I do is within his will and the ineffable plan. That means that I am here to stop you, Uriel, for that is what I am driven to do."

Uriel laughed, a dark, angry laugh that filled the room, almost as if it were physical, threatening to drown Sam and Dean. "And just how are you going to do that?" he asked. "I have always been your better, Castiel. I have more power, I have more knowledge, I have more everything. You have no chance to defeat me."

"I do have something you don't," Castiel said, and he reached out his hand. The flaming sword flew from Uriel's hand into his own. Opposite him, Sam's hands were raised, and brilliant light began to build between them, a shining example of the grace that now infused him. Uriel began to shy away from it, as if it cause him physical pain, which made Dean think of how Castiel had reacted in the cave when the grace had been revealed.

"What's... What's that?" Uriel asked, trying to cover up the stress he now felt. To his left, Ruby was pulling a knife out from the small of her back, holding it in an offensive stance; to Uriel's right, Dean readied his own dagger.

"I have friends." As one, all four rushed forward, and Uriel fell under the onslaught of power and blade. Within moments, his physical form was dissipating. Castiel walked calmly over to the window, opening it; a breeze picked up and began to blow Uriel away, nothing more than dust on the wind.

All four, Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Ruby, collapsed where they were. "That... What was that?" Sam asked, holding his hands up in front of himself, staring at them. "What did I just do?"

"It's a rare talent among angels," Castiel said. "I'm surprised you can even do it. You channeled your grace. Nothing evil can stand against its light, and few good things can stand it for long. It's the pure and unadulterated power of God that exists within every angel, that connects us to his will. Uriel..." Castiel shook his head, leaning back. "Uriel had fallen too far. He was an angel still, but I think only barely. He was ready to fall."

"But-" Ruby looked at Castiel, confusion on her face. "I saw it. I felt it -- it didn't affect me at all. And I'm a demon. Shouldn't it have... I don't know. Destroyed me, too, or something? I've seen another demon killed by grace before. It's not pretty."

"It's not demons who are killed by grace," Castiel said, matter-of-factly, but not without some kindness. "It's those who are evil in their heart. You, Ruby... You carry love there. No evil can abide for long beside a pure emotion."

Ruby flushed, and Sam had the presence of mind to be a little embarrassed himself.

"So he's gone, then?" Dean asked. "Uriel, I mean. He's not coming back?"

Castiel shook his head. His gaze was drawn to the sword in his hand, quiescent once more. "No," he agreed. "Uriel has been... ended. He won't even be able to return to the Lord for judgment. The light of your grace, Sam, was judgment enough."

Sam wondered if perhaps he should feel sad at having killed an angel, but decided that it was like killing any of the other hundred things that tried to kill he and his brother on a regular basis: necessary. "So," he said. "What do we do now? Is that the end of things here, or is that seal still in danger?"

The door to the room, already cracked open, swung out the rest of way. "Well," Frieda Collins said, framed in the doorway. "That depends. Do you all want to save the world?"

* * *

It took a few minutes to get the room settled and get things back in order, during which time Frieda Collins presided over everything like an imperial matriarch. Finally, things were arranged to her satisfaction, and she sat down in a chair while the others arranged themselves on the beds, Dean and Castiel, his wings no longer visible, sitting on the one while Ruby and Sam, his wings folded once again, sat rather closer on the other. "So," she said, "I suppose you all have some questions as to exactly what's going on here." She grinned as Dean opened his mouth. "Yes, Dean, I realise you've been asking me already, but some things had to happen before I could explain myself. You see, my name was not always Frieda Collins, and I wasn't always human. Once upon a time, about forty-five years ago, I was an angel."

"You fell?" Castiel asked. "Why? What happened? Did you disobey an order?"

Frieda shook her head. "Not at all," she said. "In fact, I didn't even fall so much as... saunter vaguely downward. It was partly because of orders, but not for disobeying them. I was told to watch a man, Tyler Collins, and report back on him and his actions; in the process, I fell in love with him. Did you know, Castiel, that angels can fall in love?" Castiel startled at being addressed by name, to which Frieda snickered. "Yes, I know very well who you are, Castiel. In fact, I know a lot more about what's going on than you do. It's rather like being tied into Angel Radio, the way I hear what's going back and forth. I'm given to understand, in fact, that there was a young woman recently who was undergoing the same thing? I was glad to hear that she escaped; it's a sad thing to be hunted down for being something you can't help but be.

"As I was saying, I fell in love with Tyler Collins as I was watching him. Now, I had a choice to make here: I could finish out the mission and return to Heaven, knowing now what it was to feel the touch of love, and later heartbreak, or I could do everything I could to reach Earth and rejoin the love of my life. Obviously, I chose the latter; luckily, Tyler found that he loved me, too, and we married. It was a beautiful ceremony, and I believe that the Lord smiled on me and my choice, for the day was perfect, and Tyler and I shared so many wonderful years together."

Frieda looked around. "Excuse me," she said, standing up and moving into the bathroom. "Don't hotels stock water glasses?" she asked. "Ah, here we go." When she returned to her seat, Frieda was carrying a glass of water, filled from the tap, that she sipped at before continuing. "Much better. At any rate, my marriage with Tyler continued as such things do, and eventually -- before too long, really -- I found that I was pregnant. Something was odd about the pregnancy, though; it was then that I started to remember who I was, and it took me the longest time to figure out why. You see, it was the pregnancy that returned to me the knowledge of who I actually was, and who I'd been, and it was the return of that knowledge that told me what I needed to know about the pregnancy: namely, that the daughter I was carrying was a fallen angel, her grace ripped from her just before she was sent plummeting to the Earth to begin life anew. I knew what would happen if the other angels discovered that she was born, and especially what would happen if she grew up to hear the same things I did, so I did what I could to protect her: after giving her her name, I sent her off with two young friends of Tyler's, a couple who could have no children of their own. Their names were Samuel and Deanna Campbell."

Sam and Dean stared, shared a glance with each other, and then returned to staring at Frieda. "What are you saying?" Sam asked. "You can't be our grandmother. Mom wasn't adopted." He looked at Dean. "Was she?"

"Dad never mentioned anything about it," Dean agreed. "As far as I know, she wasn't."

Frieda nodded. "She didn't know herself until after her parents died," she said, "and I don't think she spoke of it much. Azazel didn't know about me, and I don't think he knew about her past. _She_ didn't even remember being an angel. I don't think the memories returned before she died. Still, she knew that I was a friend of her parents, and so it wasn't so strange to reach out to me about the things she couldn't discuss with her husband, about the things that go bump in the night. I was lucky, in many ways; I'd married a hunter, who would understand when things got a little weird around me, and I still had contact with the daughter I'd given up to protect. She told me, of course, when you were both born, and she worried about you, Sam, from that very first day. She prayed every day that you wouldn't be forced into the deal she had made."

The group was silent a moment, all staring at Sam, who nodded slowly. "That... I think that helps, a little," he said. "To know that she didn't just give me up. That she fought for me, as best she could."

"She loved you both very much," Frieda said. "Which is why I think it's only fitting that you, Sam, now bear her final gift. I can think of no one she would rather have attained her grace than her own son."

"That explains it!" Castiel exclaimed. "I've never heard... But it makes sense. A son or daughter would be enough like the parent that he or she could take on the parent's grace. Do you know, Ms. Collins, is that why Sam is... not quite an angel?"

Frieda shrugged. "I'm a former angel, not a metaphysical expert," she said. "Best guess that I have is that some of the grace spent itself on burning out the demon's blood in Sam's body. But that's neither here nor there," she added. "I need to tell you about this town. You know, now, about Mitchell. The disappearances around here are not disappearances at all. It's just that, for some reason, townsfolk have begun noticing lately when people are taken to be hosts for angels."

"They're what?" Dean asked. He looked over to Castiel. "I thought you said that vessels... prayed for it? That they knew what was going on?"

Castiel shook his head. "My vessel did, yes, but that's actually not very common. More often it's brief. Spur of the moment, like with Michael borrowing Mitchell. Still, what are you talking about, Frieda? Why would they be using the whole town?"

"Hell if I now. It's just what I've noticed. I don't think it's even particularly important, in the grand scheme of things."

Castiel thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I see what you mean," he said. "What about the seal? Do you know anything about what's going on with that?"

"Only one thing," Frieda said. "I can't tell you where it is, or how it will be broken, or who's going to be here trying to do it. All I can tell you is that this is the important one, the linchpin seal. If you win here, all of you, then everything will stop. The rest of the seals will remain unbroken, and Lucifer will remain trapped in Hell, but if you fail here, you will die, and Lilith will rampage across the world, destroying the last of the seals uncontested. This is the end, boys and girl. Are you ready?"

Sam and Dean shared a brief look and nodded. Castiel turned to Ruby, who was already looking at him, a conteplative look on her face. "You're not like normal angels," she said casually, flipping her knife in the air, catching it casually as it fell back down. "You're not half-bad, even."

"You're not exactly a normal demon," Castiel retorted. He took a moment, and the held out his hand. "Truce?" he said. "Formally speaking. We both want to stop this. Afterwards, we can go back to what we were before."

Ruby smiled, just a quirk at the side of her mouth, and nodded before shaking Castiel's proffered hand. "Truce," she agreed. "I never thought I'd be saying that with an angel, you know."

Sam turned back to Frieda. "Do you have any idea where we could start looking? Just saying that the seal is here isn't exactly going to do us much good. We need to figure out what it actually is that they're going to need to do to break it -- something that would require a large amount of grace."

Frieda considered that for a moment. "I can't think of anything," she said, slowly, running through thoughts in her head as she tried to come up with a potential solution. "Nothing... Oh. Oh, no."

"What is it?" Dean asked. "What did you think of?"

"Lilith. She's a high-level demon -- but that wasn't always so," Frieda replied. "She was one of Lucifer's lieutenants before the fall. It's why she's so high ranked now. One of the seals is the return of a fallen angel through the gates of Heaven. If they've got as much grace as you say... It might be enough to get Lilith entrance into Heaven, if she can find a way to absorb it all, or otherwise use it as a mask. Where is the grace?"

"It was in the woods," Castiel explained, shivering a bit even now at the memory of what such an intense agglomeration of grace had done to him. "But it's gone now. It escaped and left when Sam absorbed his mother's grace."

Frieda frowned. "There must be something else, then," she said, "or they found a way to recapture it, or there's a second stash. Lilith going back to Heaven makes the most sense, though, and I can't think of any way to stop it."

Ruby rolled her eyes at Sam and Dean. "See? This would be a really good time to use that _demon-killing knife_ that I gave you boys," she said, pushing up her sleeves. "Those things aren't easy to come by."

"We're not completely unprepared, though," Dean pointed out. "I've got the knife dagger thing, and Cas has got the sword of fire now. Flaming sword. Whatever you want to call it. We're doing pretty well for firepower. What about you, Sammy?" he asked his brother. "How often do you think you can pull off one of those.. Grace-bomb things?"

"Not that often," Sam replied sadly. "It's not easy to do. I didn't have to _think_ about it much, it was pretty much instinct, but it definitely took effort."

"We'll keep that in reserve, then," Dean said. "Ruby? What's your knife like now? Any good against demons?"

She nodded. "Can't kill them, but it might give them second thoughts," she said. "Forged in the fifth circle of Hell. It'll cause some pretty severe pain to anyone or anything I cut with it. Demons included."

"Perfect. Okay, here's what we're going to do." The group leaned as Dean began to outline the plan. "The first place we're going to look is that cave in the woods. Cas? Think you can take us there?"

"Not all at once," Castiel replied, "but Sam might be able to take someone now, too. It's worth seeing; he could be enough of an angel to pull it off, especially if he can use his grace the way he does."

Dean nodded. "Take a few minutes when we're done this and show him how it's done. We're going to need the element of surprise with this, and I don't think we'll get it any other way. Ruby? Think you could pop out for a bit, see if there's anything to hear on the demonic grapevine?"

"Will do." Without a second thought, Ruby leaned back in her chair, and the body went limp as she left it. A few moments later, she was back. "Hell is in _chaos_ right now," she reported. "There's no way I'm going to be able to get any straight stories about what's going on. The best I can tell you is that Lilith is moving _now_, and she probably has Alastair with her."

"That's just great," Dean said, swearing under his breath. "Okay. We'll check out the cave first, and if there's nothing there... Cas, you'll be teaching Sam to fly so we can do an aerial search, all right?" He turned to Frieda -- his grandmother, he realised, as it finally clicked. "Ms. Collins..."

"Please," she said. "Call me Frieda. It's what everyone else does, and I don't want to hear Ms. Collins from my grandson -- either of you," she clarified, giving Sam a look as well, "now that I've finally found you both."

"Frieda. I'm going to have to ask you to stay here."

She gave Dean an incredulous look. "Of course I'm staying here," she said. "I'm in my seventies. There is _no way_ that I am getting involved in a fight like this."

Dean couldn't help but laugh at that; the others joined in, and it felt good, like the tension of the situation was, to a point, being released. "Okay, then," he said. "I think we have a plan. We track down Lilith and Alastair, and we hit them with everything we've got. Hopefully, it will be enough to stop Lilith before she can do whatever it is she's going to do about getting back in to Heaven."

* * *

With two experienced hunters, an angel, and a demon all working together, tracking Lilith wasn't actually all that difficult -- especially considering that they had an idea already where she might be headed. The groups started out heading towards the woods, and from there towards the cave where the collected grace had been hidden; the further in they traveled, the more hints they found to indicate that they were headed in the right direction.

"Hold up," Sam said as they approached; they were just out of eye-shot of the cave. "Are we actually ready for this?" he asked them, looking around. Ruby had her knife ready in her hand, while Dean had the star-forged blade shoved into his boot, ready to grab at a moment's notice. Castiel, the minute they halted, had taken out Michael's sword; he was examining it closely, and while it wasn't ablaze, there was nonetheless a glimmer of light running across its surface that suggested fire.

"I don't think we have time to get any more ready," Castiel pointed out. "This is our chance to end this. We're not going to get another."

Nervous looks passed around the four, but the nodded and, as stealthily as they could, approached the cave itself.

As they came close enough to see the mouth of the cave, they noticed that they weren't alone; their instincts had, as they thought, proven true, and Lilith was there, her host this time a young woman as opposed to the girls they'd come to expect; Alastair, in his old familiar host, was standing close at hand. The implements of a ritual were around them, unholy light flickering around Lilith as she recited words in a demonic language; neither Sam nor Dean could understand it, but Ruby let out a hiss as Castiel frowned. "We need to stop this," Ruby said. "_Now_."

There wasn't time for any hesitation; Dean and Castiel rushed in first, dagger and sword held aloft, and together they crashed through the tools of the ritual, scattering them around. "It's too late!" Lilith called, laughing maniacally. "Already the grace rushes back to us, to me, to gather me up and carry me aloft once-" Out of the shadows, a dark object streaks across the clearing and slices deep into Lilith's chest, making her stagger and fall to her knees: Ruby's knife. Lilith reached up and, gasping, pulled it from her chest and cast it aside. "That won't help you," she said. "You can't stop it. You can't stop me. The final seals will fall and Hell will rise on Earth."

Alastair, growling, dove at Dean, who blocked his strike with his shoulder. "Shut up and die," Dean spat out, and struck at Alastair with the light-forged blade; the demon laughed and reached out to grab it, but it sliced clear through his hand as if a warm knife through soft butter. Pushing his advantage, Dean sliced it across Alastair's throat and, spluttering and gasping, the high-level demon fell to his knees. In a flicker of light and shadows, Alastair's demonic form was expelled from his host and dissipated into the air, fading quickly, with one last cry of pain.

"No demon will win back grace," Castiel said, brandishing Michael's sword at their one remaining foe. "We will stop you, Lilith."

"And how do you expect to do that when you can't even get that sword to light up?" she taunted. "Uriel may have been useless enough to get him killed -- and _thank_ you for that; do you know how hard it is to train an angel to do your bidding? -- but at least he could do that."

Castiel smiled, just a bit, his growing humanity showing through his angelic nature. "I don't need it to blaze for me," he said. "We have other light with which to fight you." He cast the sword aside and raised his hands, which began to glow with a soft, warm light -- a light quickly outshone by the light of Sam's grace, from behind Lilith.

"Get out of her," Sam said, his voice strong with confidence. "You've lost, Lilith. Leave your host behind, agree to stop breaking seals, and we'll let you go free."

Lilith, her eyes beginning to grow glassy with pain from the wound in her chest, nonetheless just kept laughing. "Right," she retorted. "Because that's how these things work. You can't stop me. The grace returns!" And in fact, she was right; a great ball of glowing white energy was descending, called back by Lilith's ritual. "It knows me. It knows I once held grace; my grace is there, and it will lead the way. It knows I can take it in again..."

But the light didn't descend to Lilith; instead, as she trailed off, her eyes widened in fear for the first time that any of those gathered could remember seeing. The grace came down not to Lilith, but to Sam, who gathered it in to his 'Grace-bomb', as Dean had called it, and threw it all at Lilith.

"You could have gone peacefully," Sam said, smiling softly. "And I'm sure this makes me a bad angel, but I'm glad you didn't."

In the light of the gathered grace, Lilith was forced from her host's body; Castiel stepped forward immediately, bringing his hands to the young woman and healing her wounds. Above them, Lilith, her body naught but demonic smoke, tried to escape the clearing, but the grace kept her trapped, chasing her down until finally, with one last flare of light, she was gone; so, too, was the grace, long-captured and now, finally, free to return to the universe whence it came.

Everyone let out the breath they'd been holding; Dean leaned down to clean his knife on the grass. With a sigh, Castiel stood from where he'd been kneeling by Lilith's host and shook his head. "It's too late," he said. "She was gone long before this fight; only Lilith was keeping the body alive."

"What should we do with her?" Dean asked. "And with Alastair?"

"The cave. We can bury them in the cave." Sam was already stepping forward to gather Lilith's host into his arms; Castiel nodded and moved to do the same with Alastair's. It was the work of moments to carry them through, and to lay them out, bodies broken, where the grace had lain hidden for so long. They came out of the cavern, and Castiel took the sword and struck it once at the entrance; the cave collapsed, guarding the resting place of the former hosts beneath a layer of broken stone.

"Should we say anything?" Sam asked. "I mean, they were people."

"We didn't know them," Dean replied. "What could we say?" The four looked on sadly: the two hunters, broken and battered their whole life, and always coming out the stronger for it; the demon turned good, thanks to the love in her heart, taking a host not from its owner, but when the body had been left behind; and the angel, his vessel praying for what he'd been given, a chance to carry an angel in his body and to be used for God's work.

They turned away, and began the long hike out of the woods.

* * *

It was strange, thinking that things with Lilith were finished, once and for all.

Sam stood on the back porch of Frieda's house, looking out over the small back yard, and contemplated all the changes he'd gone through in the last day. Not twenty-four hours before, he'd still been a normal human -- well, about as normal as a Winchester _got_ \-- with only his brother and Bobby as family he could claim. Now, he was mostly an angel, but not, apparently, completely, whatever _that_ meant, aside from the fact that he now had wings he could bring forth with a moment's thought -- and, thanks to Castiel's instructions on the hike out of the woods, actually hide in the first place; he had discovered a grandmother he hadn't even known was a possibility; and his 'family' had grown by two more: Castiel, an angel who seemed to have decided upon rebellion, and Ruby, a demon who appeared to be falling in love with him, if not completely head over heels already. He wondered if other families were this complicated. He couldn't imagine them being any more _weird_.

"Dinner's almost ready," Dean said behind him, as he stepped out the back door. "Frieda said you should probably come in and get ready."

"I'll be in in a minute," Sam replied, expecting that to be it, but Dean walked up to the railing and leaned against it, right beside Sam.

"It's kinda funny," he said. "I honestly didn't think we'd actually see this day. It's been a losing battle all along, you know? Lilith kept getting more and more seals. But none of it matters. We stopped her. And Alastair. The world's safe from Satan being released and bringing Hell to Earth."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Well, when you put it like that," he said, then trailed off. "Actually, I have no idea what I can say to that," he said. "Other than, 'What's next?'"

Dean nodded. "I can't even begin to think about what we're going to end up doing," he said. "I mean, do we keep hunting? It doesn't seem like anything will be able to match up to this anymore. I mean, we _saved the world_. From _Hell on Earth_. How do you top that?"

"There's still the angels," Sam pointed out. "Whether or not they can free Lucifer, there's still corruption up there. I can't help but think that we might be able to do something about it."

"And Ruby, too... We've pretty much painted a giant target on our backs, haven't we?" Dean asked. "A giant sign saying, 'Hey, demons, come fuck with us!' Not that we didn't have one before."

"It could be worse." Sam pushed himself up off the railing, smiling at Dean. "It could be just us against the world. I think I'm going to like this whole 'having people' thing."

"I know what you mean." Dean followed behind as he and Sam walked back into the house. "It's strange, but I think I like it."

* * *

Castiel was sitting in the living room, paging through a book from Frieda's shelf, when Ruby walked in. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I was looking for Sam. I'll just..."

"There's no need to leave," Castiel told her. "We're... I think we're going to have to learn to work together a little longer. We're both sticking around, right?"

Ruby nodded. "It's safer with Sam and Dean," she said. "Two thirds of Hell is going to be out for my blood -- so to speak -- after what I helped them pull. I don't want to face that alone."

"That's not the only reason." Castiel shrugged, getting up and letting his overcoat settle itself before he moved back over to the shelf, replacing the book.

"What are you talking about?"

Castiel smiled at Ruby, another human mannerism he was picking up. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said. "Sam. The way you feel for him."

Ruby's face fell. "Is it that obvious?" she asked. "God, I feel like I'm a teenager in high school for asking this, but... Do you think he knows?"

"Probably," Castiel told her. He still needed to get down that whole 'comforting others' thing. "I don't think you have much to worry about, though," he added. "If I had to guess, I'd say that he might be inclined to feel the same way, too, if he doesn't already."

"What about you?" Ruby asked, trying to redirect the conversation. "Why are you sticking around?"

Castiel had to stop and think about that. Why _was_ he sticking around? There were lots of places an angel could hide from his fellows, if that was the way he wanted to go about things -- with Anna, for example, if he could find her -- and leaving meant that he could keep Sam and Dean from getting too heavily involved in what was going on in Heaven. At the same time, he found he didn't particularly _want_ to go. "I... think I've found something here," he answered finally. "With Dean. And Sam." The hesitation was _ever so slight_ before he added the second brother, but the way that Ruby's lips quirked up at one side told him that she'd caught it. "Maybe I feel like there's more that I can do here, with them, than I could if I were out on my own."

"Strength in numbers," Ruby said.

Castiel nodded. "Exactly. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts."

Ruby grinned at Castiel. "Y'know, you're not half-bad for an angel," she said, the echo of her words from earlier in the day.

"You're not half-bad for a demon," Castiel replied, returning the smile. "Now, I think Frieda's about ready to treat us with a turkey dinner. I think it's time to see how much I can actually enjoy it."

"Just wait until I introduce you to sex," Ruby said, laughing. "We'll have lots of new experiences lined up for you. All the things you always thought you couldn't feel."

"Y'know, I think I'll like that." Castiel walked out ahead of Ruby, only to turn back and say, over his shoulder, just as calmly as anything he ever said, "By the way. About the sex: was that an offer?"

He proved two things at that point: first, that he'd been spending far too much time around Dean Winchester; second, by dodging Ruby's throw shoe, that angels were very agile.

* * *

Frieda sat at the head of the table, looking out at the food. It wasn't all her; over the course of the evening, each other person there had come in and offered to help, so in the end each dish had someone else's touch involved. Everyone at the table had a hand in something.

"Yesterday," she began, speaking grace over the food, "we stood alone against the world. Things were coming down around us. The end was nigh. Today, tonight, we sit in a world saved. It's not Thanksgiving, in fact I know very well that it's far from it, but I thought it appropriate that I give thanks tonight for what the last day has brought into my life.

"I met, for the first time, the grandsons I thought I'd lost so many years ago. The world was saved, through no small effort of all of those who share my table this night. Last, I have here with me perhaps the start of a new family.

"There are others who should be here. Some, like Tyler Collins and Mary Winchester, are departed from this world; others, absent friends, are elsewhere, following their own lives. Still, they're with us in our hearts. Part of our family.

"And so I thank you, Lord, for bringing Sam and Dean into my life, and Castiel and Ruby with them. Thank you for bringing back to me a family, when I thought never to have a family again.

"Amen."


End file.
